Long ago to a white-haired gentleman
You made the present of a black gauze hat.
The gauze hat still sits on my head;
But you already are gone to the Nether Springs.
The thing is old, but still fit to wear;
The man is gone and will never be seen again.
Out on the hills the moon is shining tonight
And the trees on your tomb are swayed by the autumn wind.
Po Chü-i (772 - 846). More here.
Translated from the Chinese by Arthur Waley.